


Rather You Be Safe

by SweetestHoney



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Peter is really strong, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, lab accident, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Peter and Mr. Stark, off to save the world from HYDRA. Or, well, supposed to be clearing out and destroying an abandoned HYDRA base that, as it turns out, wasn't all that abandoned. Once the fighting is done and help is (supposedly) on the way, Peter has to find Mr. Stark and also probably figure out what that stuff he spilled on himself was.OR: super dubcon sex pollen starker that is dark and seriously if that's not what you're into don't read.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 123





	Rather You Be Safe

**Author's Note:**

> You know this was supposed to be fluffy and cute and loving and as it turns out, that's not really what it is in the slightest and yeah I don't know how that happened but I hope it's good anyway. Enjoy!

Peter wasn’t sure how long the fight took, only that it felt like it took forever. In reality, it was probably only a few hours, maybe six or seven max, but when you were watching your back and trying not to die, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like lifetimes. The HYDRA goons seemed to be endless, and he kept punching and kicking until they finally stopped coming after him. 

When he was finally done fighting, he looked around, trying to figure out where the hell he’d ended up. Him and Mr. Stark had been  _ supposed _ to be checking out a ‘deserted’ HYDRA base somewhere in Russia, but they’d been ambushed as soon as they touched down in what was clearly a planned attack. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was rusty when he called out, and as he looked around at the scattered unconscious (or worse, but Peter couldn’t summon the extra energy to care right now) HYDRA goons, he didn’t see his mentor. They’d been separated pretty early on, with Tony heading deeper into the base to hopefully take out the weapons caches they knew were there, followed by at least three squadrons of soldiers. 

Peter repressed a shiver as he limped towards the open doors to the building set into the side of a mountain, hearing no reply to his call. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time. 

“Mr Stark? Are you alright? I dealt with–” He looked behind him and gave up estimating how many men before he even started. “I dealt with all the guys that were fighting me. Are you okay?” 

He received no response, and as he reached the large metal doors, he shivered again, this time from the cold. His suit had built in heaters, but most of his suit had been broken during the fight, as men with knives and clubs and guns attacked him. It was still wearable, so he wasn’t naked, but the lack of heaters or KAREN made the situation seem a lot more dire. His mask was the most damaged, and once he was sure he was the last one standing, he pulled it off and stuck it into a pocket so he didn’t have to breath through it. 

He’d gotten out an SOS call before they managed to take her out, which meant help was on the way, but he knew that even if they’d left on one of the jets as soon as they got the call, they’d probably still be at least six or seven hours off. 

Peter pushed on the half-open door and it swung inwards, scraping across the ground with an unpleasant sound. Peter winced and covered his ears until it stopped. Nobody came running out to greet him, so he hoped that Mr. Stark had been able to take care of any of the men still left inside. 

The inside of the building was almost as cold as the outside, and Peter clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering and wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep in some body heat. The lights were bare and flickering as he walked in, and the walls made of a very unwelcoming concrete. 

“Mr. Stark! Are you here?” Peter’s voice was louder now than before, and he heard a note of real panic in his voice now, hurrying his steps along what was a long cement hallway with doors leading off of it. He didn’t see Tony anywhere, but he saw various HYDRA men, mostly splayed across the floor. Mr. Stark had clearly gone through this way on his way to the weapons caches, taking out all the guards in his way. 

When Peter reached the first door set into the wall, he paused before pulling it open and looking inside. Beyond the door lay a surprisingly normalish cafeteria, full of more unconscious men. Tony had been through there, then, but he hadn’t stayed. The room was large and Peter stepped in, noting that at least three of the doors on the hallway also into the cafeteria, but he couldn’t see any exits on the opposite walls or through the kitchens, meaning there probably wasn’t anything behind it. 

He stepped out of the cafeteria and back into the main hallway, letting the door swing closed behind him. Peter kept going, not bothering to check any of the other doors that led to the same room. 

As soon as he was past the large cafeteria, he started opening doors again, checking to make sure Tony wasn’t hiding in any of the rooms. He saw a handful of offices, a few rooms that seemed like they were locker rooms or something of the like, and a huge swimming pool set into the ground. That room was warm, the steam hitting Peter in the face when he opened the door, and he had to resist the urge to run inside and slam the door closed, search for Mr. Stark be damned. After he closed the door to the pool room, Peter looked around and found a rock in a pile of rubble. He scraped the rock across the metal door, leaving a scratchy X across the metal and marking it so he’d be able to find it again. 

The next couple doors he tried were more offices, and as he closed the third door Peter stopped to wonder at how big the base actually was. It had looked smaller on the maps they’d seen of it, but those were clearly outdated based on the fact that they’d claimed it was a decommissioned base, and when they got there they found that it was very active. 

He couldn’t see that far down the large corridor, and when he tried the next door, Peter found himself in a lab. There wasn’t anyone inside, unconscious or otherwise, but Peter stepped into the room anyway, looking around at the lab equipment. He recognized some of it from Mr. Stark’s lab, but some of the machinery looked really old, other pieces top of the line but nothing Peter had ever run into previously. 

As he walked around the lab tables that held various machinery, Peter’s eye caught on a small tabletop refrigerator with a clear glass door that sat against the back wall on a counter. It was the kind of thing that Peter had seen both at Tony’s tower and also in movies and TV shows, and it held racks of small test tubes inside, most empty. When he opened the door, however, he noticed that one row of tubes in the back was half-filled with a pinkish liquid. Peter reached for it, pulling out some of the trays in the front so he could try to ease out the tubes in the back, but when one of the empty tubes he was trying to move fell and shattered, he realized he was in trouble. 

The ‘empty’ tubes in the front, he could see now, were actually almost full with an incredibly clear liquid which now soaked through the soles of his suit, splashing as high as his knees. Swearing under his breath, Peter gingerly replaced the tray he held in the small fridge, setting it down slowly so none of the tubes spilled any more onto him. When he looked down at his feet, they just looked (and felt) wet, but he couldn’t determine anything more than that without any of the suit analysis functions online. 

Peter sighed, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Good job, Parker, way to go.” He stepped out of the small puddle, being sure to avoid the broken glass (no point getting tetanus while he was at it) as he stepped backwards from the fridge. As soon as he was out of range, he spun on his heel and made his way out of the lab. He wasn’t sure if whatever it was would have any untowards effects on him, but Mr. Stark might be able to help him figure it out. 

Walking faster now than he had previously, Peter hurried to the next door on the hallway and pulled it open. Behind it was what looked like an armory and Peter nearly sagged with relief at the sight. Most of the weapons had been destroyed, and there were more men unconscious on the ground. “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, are you here?” 

When Peter didn’t hear a response right away, he stepped further into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. His blood pumped in his ears, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. As he felt his heartbeat pick up, though, he realized it might not be anxiety and instead the effects of whatever it was that he spilled on himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the fear beating in his chest. 

He opened them, unsuccessful but determined to keep going until he found Mr. Stark. 

“Mr. Stark! Are you in here?” Peter’s voice echoed off the high ceiling, and he winced as he heard the words bouncing back towards himself. Undaunted, he kept walking into the room, past racks of melted weapons taller than he was. At the back of the room, he found a piece of the Iron Man armor, one of the leg coverings, and Peter felt his breathing speed up further. 

“Mr. Stark!” His voice cracked and he picked up the piece of metal, looking it over. One of the edges was melted, like it had been blasted off him, and Peter groaned as he ran a hand over the edge, looking around as he tried to find any other pieces proving that Mr. Stark had been there. When he only saw small fragments of red metal, he landed a fist against the concrete of the back wall, denting it slightly. 

The punch made him feel a little better, perversely, and Peter shook out his hand to ease the ache. As he did, he saw that the room had another door than the one he’d entered from, to his left. He walked over to it and looked through the glass window set into the door before pulling it open. The room behind was long, with paper targets stationed at the far side and small cubicles set into the ground in the near side – a shooting range of some kind. 

What worried Peter, though, was the fact that there were huge burn marks across a couple of the walls, scorches in the otherwise smooth cement. He pushed the door open, needing a better look at whatever fight had happened in there, and as he did so, he heard a small noise from inside. 

In his heightened state of worry, Peter threw the door open quickly, rushing in and looking around for the source of the noise. In an instant, he locked eyes onto Mr. Stark, who sat propped up against the wall in the corner of the room to the right of the door, one repulsor held up and pointed at Peter. Peter’s eyes widened and his hands went up, but Mr. Stark was already lowering the repulsor as he took Peter in. 

Peter hurried over to him, looking him up and down as he knelt beside the man. “Mr. Stark! Are you okay? I finished fighting all the guys outside and came to find you, but you – are you injured?” 

Mr. Stark shook his head, which Peter finally noticed was uncovered. In fact, as he looked at Mr. Stark more closely, he saw that besides the repulsor gauntlet, his suit was almost completely gone, leaving him in just a tank top and jeans. There were bruises already welling up on his jaw and arms, and Peter hesitated before laying a hand on his wrist, just below one of the purpling marks. 

Mr. Stark grunted, using the arm with the repulsor to push himself more upright against the wall before looking at Peter. “M’fine, they just managed to melt most of the armor with some freaking – metal disintegrating gun or something.” His voice was gruff and he sounded disgruntled, and something eased in Peter’s chest at the fact that he was acting like himself. “Managed to take out most of the weapons, but there were so many men coming for me, took a while to deal with them all.” 

He gripped Peter’s arm and then reached up, poking the bare skin of his cheek. “You alright, kid? Seems like you lost your secret identity.” Peter shrugged and tossed him a grin, despite his too quick heartbeat. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark, just, uh, suit got damaged in the fight. I only took the mask off once everyone else was knocked out though, so my secret is intact.” He leaned into the touch, not letting go of Mr. Stark’s arm either. The man was warm after the frigid air of the bunker and Peter was glad for the feeling. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright. I’m assuming that this,” Tony poked at the emblem on Peter’s chest, which usually glowed slightly when it was turned on and was now dull and lifeless. “Means we have no communications?” 

Peter shook his head, using his free hand to trap Mr. Stark’s hand against his chest, almost without thinking. “No, I managed to get out a communication before they completely knocked my suit out of commission, but it’ll probably take a while for them to get here.” He was starting to sweat, which was odd, since he’d been freezing only minutes earlier. Peter shook his head again, trying to clear it from the slight fog that was crowding his thoughts. “Uh, Mr. Stark, I should – there was, uh, I was looking for you and I – it was-” 

Mr. Stark focused more intently on Peter, and his eyes swept up and down Peter’s body where he still knelt next to the man. “Peter, hey, what’s up? What happened?” He tugged his hands out of Peter’s grip and started pressing against his chest, feeling for broken ribs. Peter just watched him move, enjoying the sensation of those fingers trailing down his body. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark, really. Actually, I’m more than fine, I was freezing earlier but it’s warmer in here, now I’m practically sweating.” He gave Mr. Stark what he hoped was a winning grin, but the man just frowned harder at him. 

“Peter, it’s freezing in here, I can see my breath. What happened?” Peter bit his lip, and Mr. Stark cupped one hand around his jaw, holding his eyes. “Peter, I promise I won’t be mad, I just need you to tell me what happened to you.” 

The words were soft, and Peter looked down and away. After a moment he spoke. “I – there was a lab room, and a fridge, and I was just – I was curious and I thought the test tubes in the front were empty but one broke and they weren’t.” Tony inhaled sharply and Peter continued speaking, clenching his eyes shut now. “I only broke one, and I put the rest back, it only got on my feet a little, I promise Mr. Stark.” 

The thumb on his jaw stroked over the skin and Peter leaned into the touch, eyes still closed. Tony let out a short huff as he took in Peter’s words, his general on edge state. “Alright, Peter, that’s fine, thank you for telling me.” Peter let out a shaky breath, glad that he wasn’t being chastised. Mr. Starked continued in that gentle tone. “Peter, can you show me where this was? And did you say it got on your feet? Through the suit?” 

Peter nodded yes to both questions, and opened his eyes to see Tony looking at him with some concern. Tony nodded at him, and let go of Peter to push himself to his feet. Peter tried to keep hold of him, missing the warmth, and Mr. Stark used the grip to pull him up as well. 

“Alright kid, let's make sure you’re not still standing in whatever it was that you spilled, okay?” Peter nodded, dazed, and when Mr. Stark reached forward, he didn’t stop the other man’s touch. Mr. Stark tugged on the front of his spider-suit and when he put some force behind the pull, it ripped easily – it was barely held together after the battle. Mr. Stark ripped the suit down the front, but hesitated when he got to Peter’s navel. “Peter, are you – uhm. Are you wearing underwear?” 

Peter was beyond embarrassment and he only shook his head at the question, looking Mr. Stark in the eyes. He wanted to touch him more, and so he shuffled closer, pressing his bare chest against Tony’s clothed one. Tony squeaked and tried to move backwards, but couldn’t really do much because of the wall behind him. His hands came up to brace Peter’s shoulders, holding him away from his body, and Peter looked up at him in confusion. 

“Peter, you’ve gotta – please just keep it together for me for a little longer, yeah? The cavalry is going to be here soon, we’ve just got to make it until then.” Peter nodded, and let himself be pushed backwards. Tony looked around and spotted one of the unconscious HYDRA goons. He took Peter’s hand and tugged him over to the man. When Tony let go of his hand, Peter whined, and Tony looked back to him in surprise before shaking himself and dropping to his knees to pull the man’s pants off. 

Once the man was left in his boxers, still unconscious, Tony stood and turned around to face Peter once more. The pants were in one of his hands, and he held them out to Peter. “Here, take these. Can you get the rest of your suit off?” Peter nodded slowly, and Tony sighed. “Okay. I need you to take off the rest of the suit and put those on. I’m going to turn around while you change, though, Peter, so just let me know when you’re done.” 

Peter took the pants from him, looking at them and trying to clear the fog from his head. “Uh, alright Mr. Stark, but you don’t have to turn around, I don’t mind.” From what he could see of Mr. Stark’s neck, the man was likely bright red, and Peter considered that a moment longer before looking down at his ruined suit. He tore the rest off in one jerk, exposing himself to the room at large. It felt nice though, since he was still sweating, and he didn’t move to put the pants on right away, instead enjoying the feeling of the cool air against his overheated skin. 

Tony was still facing away and he shifted his weight, huffing and crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced that whatever it was you spilled on yourself isn’t messing with your mind, so I’ll stay facing away I think.” He started tapping a foot, fidgeting as he waited for Peter to finish changing. 

The noise made Peter remember that he was actually supposed to be putting the pants on, and he looked down at the thick material still in his hands. He gripped it tighter and then held it out, trying to figure out which way was the right way around. Finding the tag helped, and he maneuvered one foot into a leg hole and then the other, hopping up and down as he tried to keep his balance and tug the pants up his legs. He got them to his knees before he fell over, landing heavily on his bare ass on the cement. 

“Ow!” At Peter’s cry, Mr. Stark turned around immediately, and as he saw Peter sitting on the ground, his face switched through so many emotions in the span of two milliseconds that Peter couldn’t catalogue any of them. As it was, Mr. Stark slapped a hand over his eyes as soon as he turned around, and Peter couldn’t read his face while two thirds of it was covered. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark, I just fell. I’m alright.” 

He sounded petulant to his own ears, and Peter wriggled on his ass, tugging the pants further up his legs. The concrete was really cold and he decided he didn’t like the feeling of it on his ass, and he put more effort into pulling the pants on. After a few more moments of struggle, he guided them over his hips and managed to pull the zipper tight enough to do up the button while still seated on the ground. The pants were pretty big on him, and still covered his feet entirely, but they seemed to do the job of covering him up well enough. 

“Alright Mr. Stark, I’m - I’m good.” Mr. Stark lowered his hand cautiously, looking down at Peter where he still sat on the ground. 

“Good, that’s - that’s good.” Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “Look, Peter, can you show me where the stuff you spilled on yourself is? I’d like to take a look at it.” His eyes were wide and he looked at Peter with uncharacteristic worry in his face, one leg bouncing up and down with nervous tension. 

Peter nodded, and raised his arm, silently imploring Mr. Stark to help him up. Mr. Stark hesitated for only a moment before gripping Peter’s hand and heaving him to his feet. Peter didn’t let go of him, enjoying the feeling of Mr. Stark’s rough palm against his own, and eventually Mr. Stark was forced to dislodge his hand from Peter’s with a shake. 

Peter tried not to pout at the loss of the contact, and he saw Mr. Stark wince as Peter was less than successful at the attempt. 

“Mr. Stark, are you… I’m really sorry, uh, that I accidentally dropped it on myself. I know I’m supposed to be better than that, but I just – I was cold and my hands were shaking and I didn’t think there was anything in the–” 

Mr. Stark cut him off with a wave of his hand, and Peter felt his eyes tracing the movement lazily. “It’s not your fault, Peter, I should have come and found you, instead of waiting here. I just wasn’t sure if there were more HYDRA agents, and without my suit I’m not exactly the sturdiest, so I stayed here to regroup.” His voice was soft, and Peter felt himself leaning closer, even further into the man’s space. Mr. Stark tried to step back, to put more air between them, but Peter just followed his motion, not letting him move away. 

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark – I handled everything fine, and I’d rather you be safe.” Peter hummed, his brain being remarkably uncooperative as he tried to find the right words. “You’re - you’re more important than me, and besides, I don’t think whatever it was is that dangerous, I’m not – it doesn’t hurt or anything, just feels really warm.” He punctuated the statement by fanning himself with a hand, and Mr. Stark gave him a pinched look. 

“While that’s very noble of you, Peter, I’d still like to take a look at whatever it is that you got doused with.” Mr. Stark gestured towards the door, and Peter nodded at him. “Can you show me where it was?” 

Peter nodded again, and stepped forward, brushing past Mr. Stark as he moved towards the door. Even that brief contact was enough to send a shiver down his spine, and Peter couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the feeling. Mr. Stark either didn’t notice or was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t, and Peter grit his teeth, trying to shake off the fuzzy brain feeling. 

“It was – there was a lab, it’s just a few doors down on the hallway.” Peter pushed open the door as he talked, holding it open for Mr. Stark to walk through before he followed. The armory that Peter had walked through to find him was still silent, the rows of melted weapons smouldering slightly and stinking of burnt plastic. 

Tony didn’t stop to admire his handiwork, and he took Peter’s wrist, tugging him forward. “C’mon Peter, lets go. You said it’s pretty close, right?” 

Peter wanted to answer, he knew that Mr. Stark was expecting an answer from him, but he had trouble focusing on anything but the warmth of Mr. Stark’s fingers encircling his wrist. The touch was electrifying, and he shivered slightly as Mr. Stark tugged him towards the door. When Mr. Stark turned back to look at him in worry, Peter remembered that he was supposed to be answering a question, and he bit his lip. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, I uh – what were you asking?” 

Mr. Stark shook his head, and continued tugging Peter towards the door. “Peter, I was asking where it was that you dropped whatever it was on yourself.” 

Peter nodded and tried to focus. “Right, yeah. It’s in – there’s a lab, uh, the next door back towards the entrance. Little minifridge.” 

Mr. Stark still hadn’t let go of his wrist, and Peter found himself hoping the man wouldn’t let him go, that he would use his grip on Peter’s wrist to push him back against a wall and grind himself against Peter’s– 

Peter blinked, realizing with a jolt that he was uncomfortably hard. He looked down at himself to confirm the fact, and saw that there was indeed a rather indecent tent in the front of his stolen pants. He flushed, hoping Mr. Stark wouldn’t turn around and see, but also wishing that he  _ would _ . 

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Mr. Stark, to Peter’s simultaneous relief and anguish, didn’t turn around, instead continuing to tug Peter along. He grunted to let Peter know he was listening, and Peter bit his lip again, trying to figure out how to tell his mentor that he was  _ really _ fucking horny. 

Before he could find the right words, however, they were in the main hallway of the base, and Mr. Stark was turning to face Peter, looking him in the eyes with his brows drawn together. “Peter, you said it’s one of these doors?” Peter nodded at him, trying not to shift uncomfortably and draw Mr. Stark’s attention downwards, and cast his eyes along the wall to their left. He could see the lab door, and he raised the hand not still in Mr. Stark’s grip to point at it. 

“It’s that one.” Mr. Stark nodded at him and held his eyes for a moment longer, searching for something, before turning to pull Peter along towards the door in question. Peter followed along behind him, very aware of his building arousal and unsure how to broach the subject. 

When Mr. Stark reached the door, he looked back at Peter for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside. The lab looked the same as the first time Peter was inside, and he didn’t spend much time looking around, instead choosing to stare at Mr. Stark’s backside. He wouldn’t claim he hadn’t ever snuck a glimpse of the man’s impressive ass, but usually he could control the urge. Now, however, it was like his eyes weren’t being controlled by his brain, and try as he might, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away from the man as he walked carefully through the empty lab. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was tentative, and as soon as he spoke, Mr. Stark pulled to a halt and turned to look at him. The sudden attention was a lot, and Peter, squirmed under the man’s gaze. 

Mr. Stark’s eyes were wide, and as he took stock of Peter’s flushed face and wide eyes, he frowned. “Peter? Are you alright?” His frown deepened as he stepped forward and placed the hand not holding Peter’s wrist still against his forehead, testing his temperature. Whatever he felt there didn’t seem to ease his worry, and he continued to study Peter’s face. 

Peter shifted uncomfortably, and the movement brought Mr. Stark’s eyes lower as he finally noticed Peter’s  _ little problem _ . His eyes widened as he took in Peter’s erection, and he looked quickly back to Peter’s face with no small amount of alarm. 

“Peter, are you – is that–” He couldn’t make the words come out, and seemed to lose the ability to speak entirely as he looked at Peter, glancing back down towards his crotch as if he couldn’t help it. 

Peter winced, and nodded, running his free hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah, I think I might have figured out what that stuff does. It’s, uh, yeah.” He shrugged, biting his lip. “I’m not – Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it’s – I don’t think I can – what if it’s dangerous?” His heart was beating faster now, and the worry he saw mirrored in Mr. Stark’s eyes did nothing to ease his anxiety. 

Mr. Stark hesitated, looking Peter over once more before answering. “I don’t – I’m not sure, Peter. I don’t think it would be, uh, dangerous, but I’m not sure. I haven’t seen this kind of thing from HYDRA before and I don’t know how it works.” His words did nothing to comfort Peter, but as he spoke, he started rubbing his thumb along Peter’s wrist, a soothing gesture that kept Peter from losing it entirely. As it was, he was still about halfway to losing it. 

Peter shook his head, looking at Mr. Stark with wide eyes. “I’m not – what if it’ll make it so I’m – so I can’t–” He couldn’t get the words out, and Mr. Stark seemed to understand his worry without having to hear it aloud. He pulled Peter closer, and cupped his face with his free hand. 

“Don’t worry, Peter, I’ll make sure you’re alright, I promise. You’re going to be okay.” The words were soft, and Peter leaned into the touch eagerly, his eyes fluttering closed without his choosing to close them. Mr. Stark, perhaps realizing that getting closer to him might not have been the best idea, tried to step back, but Peter didn’t let him get far. 

He wrapped a hand around Mr. Stark's wrist, stepping closer to him once more. Mr. Stark's eyes widened and he tried to pull his wrist from Peter's hand, but Peter didn't let him, using some of his strength to keep the man from pulling away. 

"Please, I can't – Mr. Stark, I  _ need– _ " Peter choked on his words, feeling his breathing coming faster as he realized how bad it was probably going to get. He whimpered as the arousal heightened further, flushing with embarrassment even as he tugged Mr. Stark closer. "Mr. Stark, it's, it's  _ bad _ ." 

Without consciously deciding to, Peter watched himself tug Mr. Stark's hand towards himself, splaying his hand against Peter's stomach and mewling as the contact sent a shiver down his spine. 

Mr. Stark tried to pull away, tugging with more force against Peter's grip on his arm. His eyes were wide and he looked panicked, darting glances between Peter's face and his erection. "Peter... Peter,  _ wait _ . You're not – this isn't – Peter, please let go of me, you're not yourself." 

Peter looked down at where his hands were slowly moving Mr. Stark's hand down his stomach, towards where he wanted to be touched.  _ Needed _ to be touched. He bit his lip and looked back up to Mr. Stark's face, noting how the man seemed flushed as well, badly concealed panic in his eyes. 

"Mr. Stark, I'm not – I can't control it, I  _ need _ it. You. Someone." Peter's hands pressed Mr. Stark's against his erection and he groaned, his eyes closing as his hips bucked into the warm touch. "Mr. Stark I'm - I'm sorry, I'm not – I can't, I can't help it." He bucked into Tony's hand again, biting his lip as he rode the wave of sensation. 

When he opened his eyes once more, Peter took in the expression on Mr. Stark's face. The man looked worried, unhappy, and anxious, and something in Peter's heart clenched at the thought that he was causing the man so much anguish. As he looked, though, Peter also noticed that Mr. Stark wasn't completely unaffected, and as he shifted uncomfortably Peter noticed a responding bulge in the man's jeans. His mouth watered at the sight. 

“Mr. - Mr. Stark, can I – will you – I need to–” Peter shook his head, trying to clear his mind and not succeeding. His eyes kept fixated on the bulge in Mr. Stark’s jeans, and even as he looked, Mr. Stark shifted again, making it more obvious. 

“Peter, no – we can’t – I  _ know _ you’re hurting right now, and you think that you need, uh, something, but that’s not – I’m not the solution, Peter.” Mr. Stark backed up and hit one of the lab tables, unable to go any further, and Peter followed him. Instead of pressing closer to the man, or trying to rut against him, Peter dropped to his knees in front of Mr. Stark, looking back up to him, eyes wide. Mr. Stark made a strangled noise. “ _ Peter– _ ” 

He seemed to run out of words after that, and Peter pinned his hands easily with one of his own, the other setting to work on Mr. Stark’s fly. That seemed to spark something in the other man, and he cleared his throat roughly, one of his feet lifting off the ground as he tried to use his leg to push Peter away. 

“ _ Peter _ no, we can’t –  _ I _ can’t let you – you’re not going to–” Tony was struggling against his strength harder now, and tugging at Peter’s grip on his wrists with real force. Peter didn’t let him go, instead watching with some amazement as Mr. Stark tried to free himself to no avail. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I  _ need _ it. You.” Peter corrected himself gently and finished tugging down Mr. Stark’s fly, using his free hand to pull the man’s pants down his hips a little so Peter could reach his goal. 

Nimble fingers worked quickly and soon Mr. Stark’s erection sprung free, bouncing upwards towards Peter’s face. Peter looked critically at it for a moment, taking in the size and shape and flushed red of it before he started. Only a moment, though, because the need was pulsing through his blood and he soon  _ had _ to bend forward, licking a stripe across the head. 

Mr. Stark groaned at that, his arms still tugging where Peter held him, and Peter looked up at him through lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t – it’s like I know you’re trying to stop me and it just doesn’t mean anything. I - I need you.” Peter’s voice cracked with emotion and he looked away from the man’s face, unable to handle the pain there. “I’m not going to – I won’t, uh, I’ll make sure you’re not hurt. I promise.” Peter cut off, choked with words he couldn’t say, and instead refocused on the task directly in front of him. 

He licked a stripe up Mr. Stark’s shaft and heard a gasp, and when he wrapped his lips around the head, sinking down on it, Mr. Stark shuddered bodily. He held himself still, like he was afraid of Peter, not thrusting forward into Peter’s mouth at all. Peter tried to relax his throat, taking as much as he could, but he couldn’t get all of it no matter how hard he tried. Considering Peter’s sum total of experience, or lack thereof, it wasn’t surprising, but Peter just growled in frustration and pushed himself further, hitting his gag reflex over and over as he tried to make himself take all of it. 

And that was enough, for a while, licking and sucking and holding Mr. Stark against the lab table while Peter knelt between his legs. But eventually Peter felt a burning in his blood that demanded more, said that this act wasn’t enough to satisfy the hunger. As he realized that, he pulled back, licking his lips and eying the man’s cock once more. It was fully hard, red and flushed, and now spit-slick with Peter’s saliva and Mr. Stark’s precum. Mr. Stark hadn’t come, although his knees were shaking and his breath was just panting now, and Peter got the feeling that he’d been close before Peter pulled off. 

Thinking quickly about what he wanted to do, Peter looked around the small room. It was full of lab tables and machinery and other random objects that wouldn’t help his current predicament, but finally Peter saw what he’d hoped to find. Sitting besides one of the machines was a half full bottle of oil, the kind that was used to grease machinery, but Peter knew the brand and knew that there wouldn’t be anything harmful in it, nor would it be particularly gross. 

He looked up to Mr. Stark’s face, meeting his eyes for only a moment. Mr. Stark was flushed, his mouth hanging slightly open and he looked dazed. He looked fucked out, if Peter was being honest, and it hurt to see him like that, since Peter  _ knew _ he didn’t actually want any of what was going on. Peter released his hands abruptly, and Mr. Stark just stood there and blinked for a few moments before he realized what had happened and wrenched himself away from Peter. 

Peter, instead of going after him, stood and walked over to grab the oil, opening it and sniffing to make sure the bottle actually was what it said on the label. It smelled right, and when he dipped a finger in to test the viscosity, he found it surprisingly nice. 

As soon as he’d verified that the bottle would work as lube, he turned back to where Mr. Stark was already at the door, breathing heavily. He pulled it open and staggered into the hallway, trying to do up his pants even as he looked back at Peter. Peter followed, stepping back into the hallway as well. He walked towards Mr. Stark with purpose, but not running, just casually gaining ground as the older man tried to make his way back to the entrance of the bunker. 

Peter caught up with him right as he passed the door to the pool and he wrapped a hand around the other man’s wrist smoothly, stopping him in his tracks. “Mr. Stark, I’m - I’m sorry – it’s – I can’t, it  _ hurts _ , it feels like I’m burning, and you’re – touching helps, it takes some of it away.” As he spoke, he saw that Mr. Stark had tensed and stood facing away from him, still pulling ineffectually against Peter’s grip. The words had an effect on the man though, and Mr. Stark turned back towards him, eying Peter with more than a little apprehension. 

When he spoke, his voice was rough, like he’d been the one on his knees instead of Peter. “Alright, then. Take what you need.” He gave a stiff nod and stopped trying to free himself from Peter’s grip. Peter frowned, unsure what Mr. Stark meant, and he stepped closer. 

He should have anticipated that Mr. Stark would flinch, but it surprised him, and the raw hurt in the other man’s eyes was something Peter hadn’t ever seen before, either with Mr. Stark or anyone else. He cupped Mr. Stark’s face and the man stiffened further, his lips pursing. Peter looked at him another long moment before letting the hand on Mr. Stark’s face drop. 

“I’m sorry.” He glared at the ground even as he felt his feet shifting himself closer to the man, shepherding him so Peter could push him against the closest wall. “I’m not – I don’t  _ want _ to–” 

Mr. Stark shook his head, his free hand coming up in an aborted move and he faltered, his fingers inches from Peter’s skin. He dropped the hand instead, still not looking at Peter. 

After another few moments, Peter realized that the man was shivering. He’d been trying to hide it, but every once in a while a shudder wracked his spine, and his arms kept twitching. At the realization, Peter set his jaw and started tugging Mr. Stark towards the room with the pool. If nothing else, it would be warm in there, and if Mr. Stark was still shivering even in the warmth, well. Peter would figure something else out. 

When he pulled open the door, Mr. Stark looked up in surprise at the gust of warm air, stepping closer to the warmth despite himself. Peter let go of his wrist in order to let him through the door first and he went, not looking at Peter. Inside, Peter let the door close behind them and they both looked around the large and humid room. Peter watched Mr. Stark carefully and he noted that while the man’s posture loosened slightly in the warm air, he tensed again as soon as Peter reached for him. 

Peter pulled him close, pressing his forehead between Mr. Stark’s shoulder blades. Mr. Stark tensed further when he didn’t let go right away, just breathing in his scent, and Peter eventually forced himself to release the man, if only because he knew their positioning wouldn’t be conducive to what he had in mind. 

From looking around the pool room, Peter knew there was a stack of towels on a cart near the door and he let go of Mr. Stark to walk over and grab a pile before beckoning the man over to one of the side walls, where the tile ended and there was a smaller hardwood area without any wet spots. Peter set the towels down, and when he looked back, Mr. Stark hadn’t moved, still standing near the door and looking like he was weighing his options. 

Peter frowned at him and the man winced when he saw Peter looking. “Mr. Stark, please. I need you. I can force you over here, but - but I’d rather not.” Peter’s voice was shaky but he knew his strength was still there, and if he had to move the other man bodily, he would. He let out a breath when Mr. Stark nodded stiffly and started walking towards him. 

With some surprise, Peter noticed that he was still half-hard, tenting the front of the jeans he’d badly done up as he tried to get away from Peter. When he got close, Peter stood from where he’d been arranging the towels so they’d have somewhere soft to lay down, walking over to the other man. Mr. Stark flinched again, and Peter had to look away. It didn’t stop him though, much as he wanted it to, and he took the man’s wrists before guiding him over towards the nest of towels. 

“Sit down. Please.” Mr. Stark nodded and did as he was told, sitting on the towels and looking at his feet, hands curled around his knees protectively. 

Peter knelt next to him and lifted one hand to rub at Mr. Stark’s back in what he hoped was a soothing manner, trying to help him relax. The touch didn’t do much more than serve as a reminder that Mr. Stark wasn’t doing this willingly as he reflexively tried to jerk away from Peter’s hands, and he gave up on it before too long. 

Peter sighed and dropped the bottle of lube next to them before gathering his fingers at the hem of Mr. Stark’s shirt, pulling upwards as he tried to get it off the man. Mr. Stark made a small noise before shifting so Peter could tug the tank top off fully, and when it was gone he wrapped his arms around his chest, looking back down to his feet.

When he didn’t move any more than that, Peter huffed and stood, undoing his borrowed pants and tugging them down his hips. His erection bounced against his stomach with a soft sound and he heard a choked off noise coming from Mr. Stark’s general direction. Looking over, Peter saw that the man was looking away from him so hard that he was concerned about the muscles in his neck, and he finished pulling the pants off to sit back down by Mr. Stark’s side. 

“Can you – I need your pants off, will you let me undo them?” Mr. Stark moved stiffly, uncurling himself just long enough to let Peter get his hands on his fly. When Peter pulled the zipper, Mr. Stark let him ease the pants down, shifting his hips and leaning against his hands so he could tug them off. Once Mr. Stark was naked, Peter took his hands off him and leaned back on his ankles to get the lube. 

He flicked the cap open and poured a dollop onto his palm, closing it again and setting it aside one handedly. A cut off gasp had him flicking his eyes to Mr. Stark, seeing the fear in his expression, and Peter chewed at his lip. He  _ needed _ , more than he ever had before, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it if he took so much from Mr. Stark, hurt him like that. 

Making a decision quickly, Peter used his other hand to fully coat his fingers with the lube. It was slightly tacky, not as slippery as the stuff he kept under his pillow, but it would do. He reached behind himself and drew slippery fingers along his hole, rubbing against himself with a mewl. The noise was enough to startle Mr. Stark’s eyes towards him, and he caught the man’s gaze even as he worked one finger inside of himself. 

“You’re – are you–?” Mr. Stark’s voice was shaky and he looked at the hand still working Peter open with brutal efficiency and then back to his face. Peter nodded at him while thrusting that finger in and out of himself, his hips canting to meet it in small motions as he willed his muscles to relax. 

“Yeah, I’m – I don’t want – I’m not in control, really, but I can–” Peter’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned with pleasure as he found his sweet spot despite the awkward angle. “I can keep from hurting you, I mean, relatively.” 

Mr. Stark seemed stunned at that and he didn’t respond to Peter, instead just continuing to watch as the boy worked a second finger inside of himself, his thighs clenching and unclenching as he rode his own fingers, trying to find his prostate again. It took a couple tries, but he hit it after another minute and he made another small sound, unable to hold it back. 

When Peter looked over to Mr. Stark, the man was flushed and he was doing a good job of being completely uninterested in what Peter was doing. His dick, however, told a different story, and he was hard against his stomach even as he tried to curl his body into a tighter ball at Peter’s scrutiny. Peter added a third finger and sped up his movements, feeling his own dick smacking his stomach as he moved. He sucked in a breath and let his eyes close, riding the pleasure. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ , I – Mr. Stark, I’m - I’m sorry but I need, I  _ need _ –” Peter whimpered again, his own fingers not nearly enough, and when he opened his eyes he saw the man staring back at him with no small amount of shock. Touching himself was rapidly becoming less and less interesting, and Peter used his free hand to grab for the lube, pouring it messily over Mr. Stark’s lap, coating his erection and a good part of his thighs. 

Mr. Stark made a noise, affronted, and looked down at himself, reaching for the edge of a towel to try to wipe some of it off. Peter batted his hands away, crawling up his body and using his weight to keep the man from trying to curl up again, settling against Mr. Stark’s sticky thighs, rubbing his ass against the erection he found there. “ _ Fuck, _ that’s - that’s good, that’s what I need, c’mon, please, just–” 

Peter’s slick hands positioned Mr. Stark’s erection against his hole and he leaned back, bearing down on the intrusion. It was big, thicker than he’d imagined, and it felt amazing as he sunk down, taking it inch by inch. Mr. Stark seemed to have lost the ability to speak altogether and when Peter looked down at him, he had his eyes closed, his hands gripped tightly in the towel on either side of himself. He wasn’t moving, not pushing up into Peter’s body, but that was fine, really, it was preferable since Peter hadn’t stretched himself as open as he should have, and the man’s dick was already stretching him wide,  _ so wide _ . 

“Oh, fuck, Mr. Stark – you feel so, god, so  _ good _ , I–” Peter’s voice gave out with a strangled sort of noise when he finally sank all the way down, using gravity to fully envelop the other man’s erection and seat himself fully in his lap. Peter’s whole body burned with the need to  _ move _ , the need for more than he currently had, but Peter fought it, just for a moment as he adjusted to the stretch and let himself get used to the feeling. 

After another moment, though, it was too much, and Peter rocked his hips up and forward, lifting up a half inch and then using gravity to push himself back down. When his ass landed on Mr. Stark’s thighs, the man himself made a noise Peter hadn’t ever heard him make before and his whole body convulsed. The movement pushed his hips into Peter’s own and belatedly Peter realized that the man had been resisting the urge to thrust up into him, not wanting to fuck up into him but his body demanding he do so. 

Peter leaned forward, shivering even as he did at the sensation of the new angle. He put his face closer to Mr. Stark’s and cupped the man’s jaw with both hands, tilting his head towards Peter’s own. Despite himself, Mr. Stark opened his eyes, needing to see what Peter was trying to do, and found himself nose to nose with him. Peter blinked slowly at him. 

“I’m, Mr. Stark, I’m - I’m sorry, I can’t – it’s not – I know you don’t want this, but I’m – it feels so–” Peter groaned and moved his hips again, rutting against the man with inhuman strength. “ _ Fuck, _ it feels so  _ good _ and I’m - I’m going to ride you, for real now, so just, you don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, or your body is – well, I’m not going to be hurt, okay? Just do what you’ve gotta do, I’m sorry, I’m–” 

Peter broke off and leaned back, shifting so he had a leg on either side of the man, his thighs bracing so he could move up and down more easily. As he did, Mr. Stark made another noise, sounding like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, and Peter didn’t look down at him, instead closing his eyes as he chased his pleasure. 

He rode hard and fast, working himself up and down and panting with the exertion. If he was feeling winded, Peter was actually surprised Mr. Stark was managing to hang on as well as he was – he was barely breathing heavily, and if Peter didn’t have a very happy erection inside of himself, he would have been fooled into thinking the man wasn’t affected at all. 

He could feel Mr. Stark’s erection, though, and he could tell that the man was rock hard while Peter rode him, his hips making small movements that Peter was pretty sure he was trying to avoid but were instinctual and unpreventable. He threw his head back, exposing the long column of his throat as he worked himself against Mr. Stark, panting. 

Peter knew it would probably be better if he shut his mouth, but he found that whatever drug was forcing his actions had also loosened his tongue. “Fuck, Mr. Stark, ah, it feels – you feel so good, fuck, so good, yeah. I’ve - I’ve fingered myself before, thinking of this, dreaming about riding you like this but I - I didn’t think this would be how it happened, maybe after a mission when we were both too keyed up or something. But you’re – and I’m – and I just, fuck, sometimes I look at you and I just want you to dirty me up, yeah?” 

Peter grunted as he sunk down, taking Mr. Stark to the hilt once more, and he wrapped a hand around his own erection, pumping himself in time with the motion of his hips. He wanted to take one of the other man’s hands, wrap them around his own erection and pump himself like that, but he had just enough control to keep from doing it, knowing that Mr. Stark would probably blame himself for that too. 

And it hurt. Peter  _ knew _ that Mr. Stark would spend the rest of his life blaming himself for this, for not somehow making sure that whatever liquid was destroyed before Peter could spill it on himself, for not anticipating the reaction it would have on him. Some small, reasonable part of his brain was already working on a plan to extricate himself once it had worn off and the other man did his best to never look Peter in the eyes again, but Peter wouldn’t focus on that,  _ couldn’t _ focus on that right now, not when his dick was pulsing a hot insistent line against his stomach and his hips were moving in that delicious rhythm. 

“Mr. Stark, fuck, Mr. Stark, I’m – I can’t – I’m not going to last much longer, I’m sorry, I’m trying to - trying not to take too long, but I’m gonna - gonna come soon, I just–” He groaned, working himself even faster until he was slamming home almost painfully, his thighs hitting Mr. Stark’s so hard he worried the man might have bruises after. 

Mr. Stark had spent the entire time mostly silent, even as his breathing sped up with Peter’s movements. As Peter got closer to his orgasm, though, Mr. Stark moaned softly, his hips moving against Peter’s a little more, and that was what finally sent Peter over the edge, rocking against the body below him and moaning, his hips shuddering as he painted white stripes of cum across Mr. Stark’s chest. 

Peter felt more than saw Mr. Stark come as well, a warm rush of wet as the man made a noise like he was dying and his hips snapped upwards, thrusting almost violently into Peter. His hands moved from where they were clenched in the towels to Peter’s hips, gripping him tightly and holding him flush to Mr. Stark’s as the man finished, overlapping the tail end of Peter’s orgasm. 

Once Peter was finally done he let his head fall forwards, chin brushing his chest as he tried to hold himself up, weariness overtaking his body. The orgasm seemed to have headed off the worst of the need, and as Peter floated back down from the clouds where his head had been, he came back to himself for real with a truly awful realization. 

He’d  _ raped _ Mr. Stark. No ifs ands or buts about it, the man had been very unwilling, and Peter had – he’d–

He scrambled off and away from the man as quickly as he could, his breathing hitching up as the true reality of the situation filtered back in. Peter couldn’t look away from Mr. Stark as he lay there still, panting, his head lying back against the ground, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t looking at Peter, he didn’t even turn his head when Peter moved off him so suddenly, just kept looking straight up, seemingly dazed. 

Now that Peter wasn’t full of his cock anymore, he could feel how open he was and that he was uncomfortably leaking cum. He hauled himself back so he could sit against the wall, still watching Mr. Stark nervously. When the man didn’t move to get up, Peter allowed himself to look away, down at himself, and he grimaced at the mess that was his chest and his ass and his dick. 

One of the towels he hadn’t spread out on the ground lay next to him, and he reached for it, using it to wipe off the worst of it as he tried to get himself clean. Peter didn’t feel... well, he wasn’t feeling as bad as Mr. Stark probably did, but he didn’t feel  _ good _ about what had happened. Once the evidence was mostly gone, he relaxed a little bit, leaning against the wall again and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Peter sat like that for a long time, eyes closed and trying to think his way out of the situation he was in. He didn’t care about what had happened, in that it had happened to him, but he desperately wished there was a way he could have kept it from happening to Mr. Stark the way it had. He sat there for so long that he half hoped that when he opened his eyes, Mr. Stark would have gotten up quietly and moved away from him, but when he finally cracked his eyelids open, he saw that wasn’t the case. 

The man had moved, slightly, rolled onto his side and pulled his legs towards his chest, facing away from Peter. Peter didn’t dare get closer to check on him, and so he sat where he was, just looking at the man he thought of sort of like a father. Who he’d just ridden to an explosive orgasm. 

Peter wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, or how long it had been since he’d sent out the rescue signal, but when he heard shouting in the outside corridor, he stiffened, turning towards the door. Mr. Stark seemed to hear it as well, if the suddenly tense lines of his back were anything to go by. 

When Peter shifted, he realized that he’d been sitting against the wall for so long that his legs had fallen asleep, and he grunted in pain as he moved, trying to find a less painful way to sit. At his soft noise, Mr. Stark tensed further, and Peter halted in his movements, not wanting to scare the other man. 

There were more noises from outside, though, and now they were closer. Peter heard one that was distinctly Steve’s, and he knew he couldn’t let them see Mr. Stark like this. He didn’t particularly care about himself – the team had seen him in worse states, but Mr. Stark was – he deserved better than that. 

Peter shifted again, shaking the pins and needles out of his legs, but not standing up yet. He cleared his throat and Mr. Stark shifted, pulling his knees closer towards his head, trying to curl up into a smaller ball. Something clenched in Peter’s heart. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark? I’m - I’m not going to, to do anything, I just – I think our–”  _ rescue _ seemed like the wrong word, considering that the worst had already happened, and Peter shook his head at himself before continuing. “Our teammates are here to get us, and, well, I don’t – I’m just going to throw a towel over you, okay?” He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t really expected one. 

Peter grabbed the towel that he’d used to clean himself up and tied it around his own waist, and then took a clean one and stepped closer to the other man, ignoring his flinch. He draped it over Mr. Stark’s hips, covering his waist, and then stepped back and away. 

Peter secured his own towel and gave Mr. Stark one more look before walking towards the door to intercept the team. 


End file.
